


ink and ash

by theaspiringcynic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, Mental Instability, Not Canon Compliant, Parasitism, Unreliable Narrator, Wizards are terrible at treating mental illness, horror but also romcom?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28449441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaspiringcynic/pseuds/theaspiringcynic
Summary: Falling in love with a memory is akin to possession. Tom/Padma.
Relationships: Padma Patil/Tom Riddle
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	ink and ash

Harry Potter was mad.

At least, that was what all the headlines, rumors, and whispers were constantly repeating everywhere she went. Padma Patil, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, and newly appointed Prefect, was indifferent if she truly thought about the topic. She had never really gotten to know the Boy-Who-Lived—a forced double date that went terribly wrong was hardly the _best_ first impression. From the brief encounter, she merely gathered one fact: Harry Potter greatly disliked being in the limelight. So she supposed on that one note alone it was possible to ignore the majority of the articles which claimed he was doing this for _fame_.

What did it matter to her if You-Know-Who (and all of his absurd monikers) had returned? The First Wizarding War had never really touched her or her family. The Patil family—at least the magical portion—hadn’t immigrated to England until 1987, long after the Dark Lord had been killed by an infant. She often wondered what it would have been like had they stayed in their homeland. They would have gone to school somewhere near the Ganges and likely taught magic known only to the surrounding lands. Unlike here where the wizards appeared to be lazy (inferred from the countless number of household charms she had discovered), the magic her grandparents used was more lasting—permanent. Why use magic when it could be done with your own two hands? Magic was—but it was not _all **[1]**_.

She performed her Prefect duties in solitude, walking the cold corridors in smothering silence. Her partner, Anthony Goldstein, had begged off his own duties because of an Astronomy project he was working on; not that it really mattered to Padma anyway, Goldstein was dreadful company. She was not close with any of her housemates, at least not like how Parvati was with Lavender. Su and Morag were kind enough, she supposed, but she never sought out their company. Unlike her twin who thrived on the attention of others, Padma was all too happy fading into the background—a fact that had taken her nearly fourteen years to understand—a fact that Parvati still had trouble coming to terms with.

She stopped as she caught sight of a male Slytherin student standing in the far corridor. Padma frowned; it was long past curfew[2] and it was an awfully long way away from the dungeons. He turned and glanced back at her before smiling. His gleaming red eyes apparent even in the lowlights of the torches hanging on the stone walls but it was his smile that truly made her stiffen and stop dead in her tracks—it was a predatory smile, sharpened and self-aware as she felt the chill of the castle halls creep under her robes. Teeth just a tad too sharp to be _completely_ human. Her breath was caught in the back of her throat as her mind vibrated with thoughts— _who_ was that— _what_ was that—what should she _do_ —

Then, he _vanished_.

Padma, refusing to acknowledge what she just saw was both disturbing and intriguing, pushed the memory out of her mind as soon as possible—continuing her rounds as though she hadn’t just seen a wraith with bright red eyes.

* * *

Padma began seeing the wraith nearly every night during patrols. Though _seeing_ was a relative term—done only through the corners of her eyes or just out of her direct line of sight—but it was never wholly visible. Not like the first night. She'd walk through a corridor and suddenly feel gooseflesh rise over the expanse of her back—she knew she was being watched.

It was growing bolder. She'd catch snatches of a large gleaming smile just around the corner of a dark hallway whose torches were conspicuously dimmer than the others. Padma convinced herself that she was merely tired—she had been having trouble sleeping, after all—and was merely seeing tricks that the castle often played on its students late at night. In fact, for all she knew this could just be Peeves playing on a prank on her during patrols. Still, she had checked the Slytherin house just in case and had found none matching its description—at least none who possessed _red_ eyes at the very least. _A trick then_ , her mind quickly concluded, and she quietly swore to get more sleep after each subsequent sighting.

* * *

Prefect meetings were held every week and each time the Head Boy asked if the Ravenclaws had any issues with their time slot.

“Nothing we can’t handle, right Padma?” Anthony Goldstein asked though it was mostly for show. He often moaned that his course-load was too important to skiv for mere Prefect duties; being a Prefect meant _nothing_ when compared to Head Boy. He rarely if ever accompanied her on the rounds and none of the older Ravenclaws ever bothered to say anything—they were the House of Sloth[3], after all.

“Yes,” she always answered. Padma was starting to believe that it was a great stroke of misfortune that the Ravenclaw fifth-year Prefects had been given the grunt work for this term—the latest and least-desired shift. The Slytherins, of course, turned their noses up at such drudgery. No one was cruel enough to ask the Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors might have been game but Ron was notoriously lazy and no one wanted the ire of one Hermione Granger. And so the Ravenclaws and, by default, _Padma_ had been given the least desirable time slot. She hadn’t hated it in the beginning, at least. Padma enjoyed the tranquility of the sleepy castle, relishing the patrol as an opportune time to gather her thoughts and assess the events of the day.

One night, however, the wraith didn’t vanish. He lingered as he stood next to the stone wall, watching her with his sanguine eyes. His skin was extremely pale as though he hadn’t seen the light of the sun in decades however it wasn’t translucent like that of a ghost. His teeth were still pointed but with them tucked away in his mouth, it was easy to forget that fact. His eyes, however, were still haunting. A glowing red that burned its color into her gaze, daring her to continue gaping as she was.

“You can see me.” Padma was unprepared for his voice. A low yet melodious tone—almost ethereal in nature—that made her heart thump faster in her chest, nearly causing palpitations. It sounded like a voice recorded on one of those tape-players Lavender had shown her: a distant, dreamy quality more like a memory of a voice rather than something she was actually hearing with her own ears.

_No_ , she wanted to answer. _I’m not seeing you—I’m imagining you_.

But the words were stuck in her throat; a part of her firmly believed if she did not acknowledge it then it would not— _could not_ — be real. To voice a reply was synonymous with losing this little game—it meant admitting that what she had been seeing these few weeks _actually_ happened and, in doing so, she would lose any credence of sanity that she was so desperately and stubbornly claiming.

He would vanish before her eyes once again that night but this time his image remained for several seconds before fading so that it was only his smile that was left—its sharp impression engraved onto her eyes as though if she closed them she would still see it standing there, smiling at her. She remained standing there, clutching the stone wall as though to use its cold firmness as an anchor to reality.

Reality was its own shield, after all.

* * *

He began appearing outside of her rounds as the weeks of September bled into October. A glimpse in between classes, an eerie paranoia as she went around the shelves in the library, and occasionally a brief sighting during meal times. He would always vanish before she could manage to take a second look.

“Padma are you alright?” Su asked as Padma was preparing to leave the tower to start her rounds.

Padma nodded as she carefully put her books back in her trunk. “Just tired. I’ll try not to make too much noise coming back.”

Su simply gazed at her cautiously. “Well if you’re sure.”

Padma paused, knowing that this was the perfect opportunity to tell someone about what she had been seeing on a near-daily basis now. _No_ , Padma thought, _Su would never believe me anyway_. “Just need to catch up on my sleep, I guess. Maybe I’ll ask Goldstein to cover for me next time.”

Su brightened at the thought. “That’s a good idea! Have fun! I mean . . .”

Padma smiled indulgently as she gave the girl a mock salute. She allowed herself to feel a bit of optimism. Maybe she won’t see it this time.

* * *

Padma was incredibly jumpy that night. Her wand was clutched in her fist the entire time. She sighed in relief when she turned a corner and caught nothing unusual in her sight. Her shoulders dropped, releasing the tension she had gathered.

Unfortunately, she was then immediately startled by a noise, causing her to send a fairly powerful and wordless stinging hex in its direction. She exhaled when she realized that it wasn’t the wraith—it was Harry _bloody_ Potter being partially hidden by an impressive invisibility cloak. He was groaning, clutching his side where her hex had likely landed. Begrudgingly, she lent him her hand and hoisted him back to his feet.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s a bit creepy doing rounds by myself.”

He shrugged. “Guess it’s what I get for sneaking out past curfew. That stinging hex was brilliant by the way, I didn’t even hear you cast it.”

The corners of Padma’s lips curled upwards just a tad. “I work better under stress, I suppose.”

“Any chance you could look the other way and pretend this never happened?”

He winced when Padma raised an eyebrow. She sighed before nodding, much to his apparent surprise. “It’d be a pain to do the paperwork, besides I have to send in detentions to that Umbridge toad now and I really don’t want to do that.”

She watched him shift uncomfortably when she mentioned the ministry-appointed DADA professor[4], he was obviously hiding something since he moved his hand behind his back. She continued in a rather bored tone, “Though as the Chosen One, perhaps you’ll be better off with a Prefect escort.”

His expression changed and Padma immediately regretted her words. It was obviously a very sore topic with him and she had just ripped it wide open. “I’m just taking the piss, sorry. It was likely tactless of me to bring it up.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “So you don’t believe it then?”

Padma shook her head. “I don’t put much faith in Seers. You’re a decent bloke and Skeeter’s, well, out for blood. Has been since the Tournament, I think.”

She groaned inwardly when his expression changed into one of heavy guilt and melancholy. _Harry does have a tendency to brood_ , Padma noted coolly. She felt partly responsible since she had been the one to mention all of the things that were obviously troubling him. “Do you, I mean you don’t have to, but do you want to talk? Sometimes it’s better to confide in a stranger—or so my twin tells me.”

He met her eyes with a jerk, clearly astonished by her offer. Padma inwardly scowled, did no one offer to talk to him about any of it? Perhaps it might be stifling from the professors but not even his best mates?

“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” He answered dismissively.

Padma shrugged. “It’s no bother. My shift doesn’t end for another hour and I’ll mostly be wandering empty hallways.”

“Have you noticed anyone during your shift?” He asked with a forced nonchalance. _Was Potter always this terribly obvious?_

“No. It’s all quiet—haven’t even seen Filch or his stupid cat tonight.” He seemed a bit crestfallen at her answer. She said nothing, thinking that the Gryffindor Golden Boy was rather awful at hiding things. “You’re likely the only one I’ll see tonight besides—” Padma quickly dropped her voice, silently chiding herself for nearly telling him about the wraith.

“ _Besides_?” Harry questioned. Suddenly, a smirk was drawn on his lips. “Meeting up with someone, eh Patil?”

Padma scoffed. “Of course not. There’s just been something odd going on lately.”

“Yeah? Like what? Anything I can help with?” Padma silently considered his offer, completely surprised by his generosity. He was obviously tied up with his own problems yet more than willing to listen to her own. “You’re letting me off detention with the pink bint. It’s the least I can do, I reckon.”

Padma sighed, maybe it would be good for her to confide in someone—even if it was Harry bloody Potter.

“Ok, but don’t laugh, yeah? It’s been driving me mad. I’ve been seeing someone—a student I _think_ —dressed in Slytherin robes. . .”

“What’s he look like? Is he blond?”

The only blond Slytherin who immediately came to Padma’s mind was Draco Malfoy but why in Merlin’s beard was Harry Potter seeking out Draco Malfoy at this time of night?

“No, he has dark hair and,” she paused a bit here, wondering if she should actually go on with her description, “and red eyes and he’s paler than Malfoy.” She watched him twitch a bit when she mentioned the young Pureblood’s name; so Draco Malfoy _was_ the one Harry Potter was looking for this time of night. Completely nutty if she had anything to say about it.

“Oh.” Harry said, obviously deflated.

“But get this—this bloke just vanishes out of sight before I get a good look at him. I know for a fact that there’s no Slytherin in this school that matches the description and he sure as _hell_ doesn’t look like a ghost.”

“That is odd,” Harry agreed as they turned the corridor.

“Yeah,” Padma replied lamely, unsure of what else to say that wouldn’t make her sound completely mental. “It’s probably nothing, it’s just been bothering me and I can’t figure out—”

“Good evening.”

Padma stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of those words. Trembling, she raised her gaze from the floor to Harry who was also frozen in shock. The Gryffindor was even shaking ever so slightly. With great hesitation, she then very slowly glanced towards the source of the voice.

There stood the wraith, closer than she had ever seen it. His blood-red eyes twinkling madly at the pair as his teeth were drawn in an open smile. She watched as his eyes turned to Harry and his smile grew ever wider. “And you’ve brought him. Well done.”

She glanced at Harry who was completely shell-shocked at the sight before him. The wizard was having heart palpitations if his ashen face was anything to go by but all she could think was— _he_ could see him too. There was a brief moment of absolute relief—she wasn’t going nutters as she had initially thought. _Unfortunately_ , this also meant that she had been actually stalked by a wraith for the past few weeks.

“What are you?” She found herself whispering unable to stop herself. “You’re not a ghost, not a person, not a student—what are you?”

He drew closer and his smile widened. “I knew you were different.” He sounded proud, almost. It was an absurd thought; why would it be proud of her? “Oh, how I’ve waited for this day!”

“I killed you,” Harry stuttered out lowly in a fragmented whisper. “I killed you.”

Padma froze. Harry knew who or what this was. Why did Harry know? It couldn’t possibly be—

“No,” the wraith shook his head lightly, his smile a little smaller but just as sincere. “That was not me—what you met was something quite else entirely.”

_Something quite else entirely?_

Several thoughts ran through Padma’s mind. Perhaps she should draw her wand though she knew few if _any_ spells that would work on a wraith—unless whatever stood before her was _actually_ human. But if Harry was to be believed, then there was a possibility that this was a ghost and quite possibly the ghost of—Padma wouldn’t allow herself to finish that thought. Running was out of the question since she wasn’t quite sure if a wizard could _outrun_ a wraith. Hiding had similar implications. _Wand_ it was.

“I mean you little harm,” his beautiful voice stated.

_I mean you little harm. Who says things like that?_

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say.” Padma heard her voice reply though everything felt disjointed because she was having trouble keeping up with her thoughts—they were sprinting leagues ahead of her consciousness and she was having difficulty keeping sight of them.

“Quite right, but I assure you that while my intentions are not always the purest, they are mutually beneficial.”

“Mutually beneficial?” Padma glanced at Harry who still seemed frozen in shock. He was continuously muttering various words under his breath and had a white-knuckled grip on his own wand but was far too lost in his own horror to be of any use.

The grin he gave her seemed different somehow—it was still predatory but also a little warm, almost heated. He nodded.

“Why do I keep seeing you?” It did not escape Padma’s notice that he—it—had willfully ignored her first question.

“You interest me.” The answer was so simple but its implications made her head spin.

“I apologize, getting your attention was never quite my intention.” She forced some false bravado into her tone—Parvati had always been the one to teach her to keep her gaze steady and her words calm. _Acknowledge the fear but keep it locked for later_ , her sister always said.

His red eyes glittered in apparent amusement. “Quite so. But nonetheless, you’ve captured my fascination—something only one other has ever fully managed to do.” On that note, his gaze wandered almost reluctantly to Harry. “I hope you do excuse the other one’s rudeness. He hadn’t had quite the time to adjust, if you understand; that girl’s magic was too pure; it drugged his senses.”

“You nearly killed her[5]!” Harry spat. His shout disturbing the tenuous peace.

_That girl? What girl?_ Padma was having trouble keeping hold of her curiosity.

He nodded. “And I apologize though I understand if you are . . . less than forgiving.”

“Less than forgiving?” Harry’s breathing was erratic and his words were heavily strained. “Less than forgiving? You killed him—he’s dead now and you didn’t even spare a single glance at his[6]—” Harry choked back a sob.

He shook his head. “Now, now, _I_ didn’t kill him. While I understand how you can be confused since the teaching at Hogwarts has become _startlingly_ subpar as of late, I assure you that I was not the cause.” He then released a heavy sigh.

“Who are you?” Padma asked with as much authority as she could muster. “If you claim to be someone else.”

He smiled, red eyes shining ever so bright in the lowlight. “I’m Tom.”

_Tom? A wraith named Tom?_

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Harry flinched and Padma felt as lost as ever.

And then he vanished.

Harry was obviously distraught but remained tight-lipped. Padma opened her mouth, almost uncertain what to ask first when Harry immediately declared, “I have to see Dumbledore.”

She watched the Gryffindor take off, rushing down the corridor before slipping out of sight.

Padma wasn’t sure how long she stood there—body tense and mind completely too full. It felt like hours until she turned on her heel and went straight back to her dormitory. Never mind the fact that her patrol wasn’t quite finished. Padma was exhausted, confused, and deeply anxious. She fell face-first onto her bed for another long sleepless night.

* * *

Her scalp was sore—phantom aches—almost as though something was slowly but surely squeezing her head. Her skull felt almost clay-like and oddly malleable. Almost as though she was a wax doll slowly melting from the heat. Idly, she wondered what the pain was trying to shape her into. What would be left when the wax hardened?

“Taken a fancy to Potter, have you?” Morag’s question jerked Padma out of her reverie. Her jaw opened and then closed silently.

“No,” Padma heard herself responding even if it felt like she wasn’t entirely within her own body at the moment. “I’m actually looking at Weasley. Still trying to figure out what exactly Lav sees in the bloke.”

Morag snorted.

Padma turned her attention back to her stew. Potter kept avoiding her gaze and whenever she _did_ manage to briefly hold eye contact with him, his eyes were wrong. Confused almost. She had managed to slip a few words to him in passing after History of Magic but his befuddled and blank look had caused her scalp to painfully prickle in fear. She had fled before he could quite manage to ask her what she was saying. But it had been clear enough to her that Potter _clearly_ didn’t remember. _Was he Obliviated? If so then by who? Did Dumbledore know?_

She had to talk to Dumbledore but that had become considerably trickier since the only other witness no longer had any recollection of the incident. Well that and the fact that the headmaster hadn’t been present in the Great Hall for several days now. Her mind was crammed with questions as she stood on the moving staircase, making her way back to Ravenclaw tower with dejection sitting heavily in her stomach. _Was Tom the one who erased Harry’s memories?_

No, that didn’t seem right. If it had the power to do so then why didn’t it do the same with her? Why had Tom allowed her to continue to remember? Her grip tightened on the railing.

Rather than continue onto Ravenclaw tower, Padma decided to detour to the Owlery. She wrote feverishly on a spare piece of parchment, not allowing herself to second-guess her actions. She had to know if Harry had been at all successful in letting Dumbledore know about Tom. She used magic to dry the ink before folding the letter carefully. After some hesitation, she also wrote some Runes on the envelope as a means to prevent someone other than the intended party from reading what was written. It wasn’t foolproof, however, seeing as Dumbledore could just as easily destroy the letter or _worse_ —completely ignore its contents. Dumbledore was undoubtedly a busy man and considering the way the Prophet was steadily turning against him as well, Padma wondered if the wizard would even have a moment to spare for her concern. She wasn’t Harry bloody Potter, after all.

Padma grit her teeth; she nonetheless owed it to herself to try. The common barn owl she’d chosen to deliver the letter merely eyed her quietly before diving out the window. Her fist stayed clenched, however, until her eyes could no longer track the brown speck in the sky. It was out of her hands now until Dumbledore responded—if the wizard bothered to, of course.

All that was left was to wait— _no_ , that wasn’t quite true. She pressed her lips into a thin line. No, she wasn’t completely helpless. Not yet, at least.

* * *

The coming weeks blurred together. She had thrown herself headfirst into the ever-growing number of essays and projects the professors were all too happy to assign considering that O.W.L.s were just half a year away. It was easier to ignore what was bothering her when she didn’t have the time.

Regardless, even if the number of sightings had begun to dwindle, Padma still felt an undercurrent of unease. She wanted to convince herself that it had been a figment of her imagination—a repercussion brought on by exhaustion and anxiety over her upcoming O.W.L.s.

But just as she was about to relish in the luxury of that it was all in her head, he appeared again. _Appeared_ was an unfitting term especially since she had found him outstretched on her bed looking like a smug kneazle who had just swindled its owner into giving it fresh cream. To Padma’s credit, she didn’t scream nor did she shriek. She didn’t really do much of anything except flinch a bit as she awkwardly closed the curtain to her four-poster bed. Consciously, she glanced around and checked to see if any of her housemates had managed to notice her abnormal behavior but the room was thankfully empty. She exhaled slowly, before opening the curtain again.

“Hello,” he greeted casually as though lounging on her bed was where he belonged. _He wants to unnerve you_ , she repeated to herself. Her stomach soured at the thought; that was likely what he saw her as—a piece of entertainment to coax a reaction from.

_I mean you little harm_. The words echoed in her head.

“What do you want from me?” The words finally found their way out of her mouth as she chose to put down her bookbag, taking care to keep a hold on her wand. Though at this point she doubted whether it really served any purpose, it had been long obvious that the wraith was able to disappear at a moment’s notice. She remained doubtful as to whether she’d be able to harm or incapacitate him in any meaningful way. Unconsciously, her mind drifted toward the books in her bag—she’d taken the time to find some more obscure tomes related to spectral beings. Her reading hadn’t been very fruitful but she remained cautiously optimistic. There _had_ to be something in the library that could help her.

“Satisfaction.” He smiled widely. A joke then and one _clearly_ at her expense.

“That’s not very funny,” She replied with an edge in her voice.

“I suppose my sense of humor has gotten a bit antiquated. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to properly talk to someone.” His tone was condescendingly placating and subdued, as though it had picked up on her anger. But all that accomplished was to irritate her further.

Despite her best efforts, Padma felt her curiosity perk up in attention. “How long?”

“Oh, _decades_ at the very least. There was one other one before you but he couldn’t quite see me as well as you can—I’m rather thankful for that since he turned out so _boring_.”

~~Did that imply she was interesting?~~ No, she shouldn’t care about what a wraith thought of her that was _absurd_.

“Following me around is dreadfully more boring, I assure you,” she stated firmly. It was becoming rather obvious that this was all some sort of game to him, a strange way for him to relieve boredom. “Surely you _must_ have something better to do with your time.”

He seemed amused with her response. “On the contrary, I found it rather regrettable I wasn’t able to spend more time in your company but there were matters I had to attend to.”

She wanted to so dearly ask what matters a wraith could possibly have but she bit her tongue instead. “Oh,” she tried to keep her tone even, “I hadn’t noticed.”

His dark brow rises. “Not much of a liar, are you? If you wanted me to leave, darling, you should stop looking for me.”

Padma bristled at the preposterous thought that she was actively looking for the wraith. It was anger that was making her hand shake now, not just fear.

“Why did you only notice me now? I’ve been at Hogwarts for half a decade,” she accuses.

He sat up and Padma noticed that her bed actually looked mussed which meant that he—it—had a solid form or at least possessed a form more solid than the typical ghost. Perhaps she could actually injure it then. He looked at her, really looked at her instead—it felt different from the times when it seemed as though the wraith wanted to burn a hole through her with its gaze alone.

“Perhaps you’ve never noticed me until now.” He cocked his head and Padma did her best not to shiver in front of its gaze. The heat was back in its stare and she wasn’t quite sure what it meant—she wasn’t even sure if she ever wanted to know what it implied. “Of course, there were long moments in which I slept. There wasn’t much else to do considering the lack of company since that old nancy wouldn’t bugger off.”

His answer was strange, and Padma mentally noted it to review later.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be leaving any time soon then?” He laughed at her hopeful tone since it didn’t match her sour expression at all.

“Are you really sure you want me to leave?”

Padma stilled. There was a sort of bitter truth to the implications of his words. Sure she’d written a letter to Dumbledore but that had been days ago; why hadn’t she done anything else? She had never once approached a professor regarding what she had been seeing—never even told _Parvati_ for Merlin’s bloody sake—and never once went down to Madam Pomfrey’s office for something to end these hallucinations.

Perhaps subconsciously, she hadn’t really wanted to stop seeing him. Maybe because deep down this was the most interesting thing that had happened to her in her dull life—things like this happened to Harry Potter for Merlin’s sake, not her. So she looked at the wraith in its eyes and realized that while she could not be certain she felt as though it had never really lied to her. But that was _ridiculous_ , everyone lied—it was ridiculous to consider that a wraith was more honest than her own sister. But still, what did it gain from lying?

She chose to say nothing, partly fearing that whatever left her lips next would resemble a lie.

Silence blanketed the room, it was not uncomfortable since Padma used the time to ponder on just exactly what her life had suddenly become while the wraith sat on her bed merely watching her thoughtfully. Padma shook her head as though to dispel the increasingly disturbing and malicious questions that cropped up in her mind.

And just like that, the wraith was gone as though bored from the lack of conversation. Padma, in turn, headed down the staircase to dinner with a heavy mind and heavier thoughts.

Su was chattering about something—again. Padma hadn’t quite been listening since her thoughts were still on the wraith and what she should do. Harry Potter hadn’t given her a moment’s glance since the incident which was odd. Extremely odd. Almost as though the incident hadn’t actually happened. She was all but certain now that the Gryffindor had been Obliviated.

Padma bit her tongue to prevent her displeasure from showing on her face. Perhaps she really was going mad. She needed to know if what she was seeing was true but she also wanted to hide it. She was in a precarious position—and it felt as though if she made a choice, she’d become permanently entangled.

Responding to her friend’s questions with noncommittal responses was easy. Mindlessly doing her History of Magic essay was quite easy. Mechanically going through the motions as she got ready to retire to her bed was easy.

Going to sleep was something else entirely.

* * *

“Do you talk in your sleep?” Su asked over breakfast.

Padma looked up from her toast, surprised and wary. “Not that I know of, why?”

Su frowned. “I could have sworn I heard something last night, then again it was probably just Morag snoring again.”

“She should really get a potion from Pomfrey about that.” The two girls chuckled but Padma felt disturbed—as though something wasn’t quite right.

She could, in fact, see the wraith right now. He—it—never dared to venture close enough to the tables but at the very entrance of the Great Hall, there he stood with its gaze trained solely on her. He had taken to ignoring Potter as of late, just as the Gryffindor Hero had taken to ignoring her. She wondered why it had such an aversion to the Great Hall, it never had any trouble coming close to her in crowded hallways or even (though less occasionally) during lessons. Her mind went over the few words it had spoken to her and it stumbled on ‘old nancy’.

Who was the ‘old nancy’ who wouldn’t bugger off? Was it possible that the wraith was afraid of someone? Padma glanced at the High Table.

Was it possible that the wraith was wary of one of the professors? It really didn’t take much of a deduction to conclude that it might be Headmaster Dumbledore. It wasn’t really all that surprising, Dumbledore was powerful—it was likely even the undead knew that. Perhaps Dumbledore’s absence was the very reason why the wraith had become bolder in the first place.

“Something on your mind, Padma?” Su asked, noting her friend had been more silent than usual.

Padma shrugged. “I’m a bit worried about the Potions essay we’re supposed to write, probably will have to head down to the library after classes.”

Su smiled. “Well, have fun; I’m meeting with my Gobstones club today.”

_Was lying supposed to be this easy? How had it become so second nature?_

_I should tell someone_ , Padma thought as they walked to class.

She glanced at the wraith from the corner of her eye.

_Soon_.

* * *

“Yes, what is it, dearie?” The matron of the infirmary was gifting her a rather stern look as she scrutinized Padma’s appearance with a keen eye.

Padma wanted nothing more than to turn and run. “I’ve been seeing things during the day that I know aren’t really there—no else can see them.”

“Hallucinations?” Madam Pomfrey asked. 

_In for a knut, in for a galleon_ , Padma supposed.

“It started during one of my patrols as a Prefect but I’ve been seeing the same _hallucination_ during the day time. Or at least, I think it’s a hallucination. I’m not sure if I would call it as such.” Harry had at least seen the wraith _too_. At least before he was Obliviated.

There was a very subtle frown on Madam Pomfrey’s face—so slight that Padma would have missed it if she wasn’t gazing so intently. “How long have you been seeing this hallucination?”

“About a month or so, ma’am.”

“What made you decide to come in now?” Padma reflexibly stiffened at the question as she hesitated.

“For a while, I thought it was merely lack of sleep or stress from my upcoming O.W.L.s but even after a few good nights of sleep it still hasn’t gone away,” she quietly murmured.

“Do you see it now?”

Padma swallowed as she glanced around but was relieved when her findings came up negative. “Not at the moment.”

“Does the hallucination encourage you to do dangerous things?” Pomfrey asked, her gaze sharp. Pomfrey seemed very fixated on the word _hallucination_ , Padma noted. It made her nerves curl in discomfort.

Padma paused before shaking her head. “Not that I’m aware.”

“Well, I suppose I can run some tests. Though this sounds more like the task for a Mind Healer unless there was a spell cast on you that you weren’t aware of,” Pomfrey’s tone was a bit more solemn towards the end. Padma wished her problem were something as simple as an errant _curse_.

Madam Pomfrey gestured to an empty cot and Padma sat down with a heavy sigh.

The older witch waved her wand and Padma forced herself to relax and wait as patiently as she could. The school nurse cast quite a few diagnostic spells that tingled as they made contact with her skin.

“My diagnostics are not showing anything unusual—I suppose I could send an owl to St Mungo’s and ask for a specialist. Otherwise, if the hallucinations worsen or start encouraging you to do harm to yourself or others, come see me immediately. In the meantime, unfortunately, all we can do is wait.”

Padma nodded, feeling a decade older. “Will you notify my parents?”

“Not yet. Are you sure that it isn’t merely one of the ghosts— _Peeves?_ —playing tricks on you?”

“Quite sure, ma’am.”

“Well, there’s quite a lot hidden inside these castle walls if I do dare to say so myself. I will need to notify your Head of House of the situation and perhaps the other professors as well to keep an eye on you.” Her throat felt awfully dry as Padma attempted to swallow.

Padma felt uncomfortable at the notion but couldn’t find a reasonable way to refute the suggestion. “If you think it best.”

“Well, off you go. Be sure to eat heartily, if the situation progresses I’ll talk to Professor Flitwick about relieving you of your Prefect duties.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Padma forced herself to walk to the Great Hall and sit down next to her fellow Ravenclaws at dinner as though everything was normal. She was eating rather mindlessly and ignored any and all conversation around her. There was far too much on her mind to talk about the upcoming Quidditch match or weekend to Hogsmeade.

“Hello Padma,” a dreamy voice broke her reverie.

Padma glanced at the intruder and found herself face to face with one of Ravenclaw house’s more notorious members, Luna Lovegood. The fair-headed girl was wearing her favorite radish earrings and Padma noticed that her blue tie was distinctly more neon than strictly regulation.

“Hello Luna,” she answered back, shifting her gaze to her plate hoping to be left alone.

“Have the Nargles stolen something of yours as well?” Her voice asked, obviously not taking the subtle hint.

“Only my wits,” Padma murmured, indulging in her own sudden feeling of self-pity.

“I could make you a pair of Dirigible plum earrings—it keeps the Nargles away,” Luna offered sincerely.

Padma smiled sardonically, acknowledging that it was probably only a matter of time until everyone found out her mind was hanging by a thread. A bit of her was rather chuffed though, knowing that Luna only wanted to help. “Thanks for the offer, Luna, but I don’t think it’s Nargles this time.”

Luna nodded rather sagely as she turned back to her roast beef.

The wraith had been distinctly absent since she had left the hospital wing. If anything that only really made her mood worse. Was she just making all this up? Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, she considered confronting Harry Potter about what they both saw that night but ultimately dismissed the thought—she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself as it was. The gods knew how much Parvati enjoyed gossiping but Padma couldn’t stand it and she wasn’t quite so sure how well she’d stand it if it was her twin saying those things.

Padma left the table just as dessert was served, muttering a quick but sincere goodbye to the only person who seemed to notice that something was off about her.

* * *

He followed her, not saying a word as she confidently answered the riddle to enter Ravenclaw tower nor did he speak as she passed her housemates in the common room. He only deigned to speak once Padma was up in her room (which was thankfully empty) and the door was closed.

“What’s wrong?”

Padma was unable to keep the twitch of anger and frustration from fully showing on her face. The wraith showed no sign of leaving her room any time soon as it patiently waited for her answer—as though it _genuinely_ wanted to know what was ailing her. How was it that Luna and now he—it—were able to tell something was wrong when no one else not even her twin sister were even bothered!

“What makes you think there’s something wrong?” She asked, pointedly looking at it in the eyes while hoping her bravado would last her the rest of the conversation.

“You left before eating any ice cream, which is highly irregular. And you came straight up to your bedroom instead of working on your Potion’s essay in the common room—you’re not one to shirk your responsibilities.” She knew consciously that the wraith was always watching her but it was quite unsettling to have the facts laid out so readily before her. It was unnerving to imagine that something unnatural could know her so well.

“What do you do when you’re not following me around?” She asked suddenly, desperately wishing to change her train of thought.

The wraith smirked, a look full of pure self-satisfaction. “I assure you, nothing else is quite nearly as interesting but unfortunately there are certain matters that I have to attend to.”

A vague answer if she ever heard one. It was unusual for the wraith to be so evasive—typically it rather delighted in being blunt.

She wanted to ask him again. _Why her_? But she had long since learned that the wraith disliked repeated questions—it usually gave her worse answers. Maybe a different approach was needed to get the answers she needed.

“Tom, are you going to make me hurt someone?” At the sound of his name, he had gotten much closer. His face was only two hands breadth apart from hers, and his red eyes were searing straight into her brown ones.

“Not unless you wanted me to.” She could practically feel his breath fan out over her face. It was odd—would a wraith really need to breathe? She still wasn’t quite sure what it—Tom was. Not quite human, not quite a ghost, and perhaps not entirely a wraith but something else entirely. And its breath was slightly warm—not at all cold as she would have guessed.

“Do you want to hurt anyone?” She tried again.

He grinned a bit, almost sheepishly. His expression was hesitantly bashful but not to be mistaken as guilty or regretful. “Are we not all a little guilty of harboring terrible thoughts?” He peered at her through his lashes as though to prove to her his innocence.

“Stop doing that!” Her outburst was much louder than either of them were expecting. It was enough to startle him into a smirk which fueled the vitriol in her throat. “ _Don’t_ lie to me.” ~~At least not so blatantly~~.

“I would never lie to you.” He said it so sincerely that it made Padma’s own heart clench.

“Maybe not verbally but—your expression. You can’t just—you can’t just say something like that all bashful!” She whispered out the last part, her thoughts in a jumbled mess unsure why it was upsetting her so greatly but also why it wasn’t upsetting her _more_. Why was she even having this conversation in the first place? “There’s a difference between harboring and fantasizing.”

“Fantasizing?” His amusement is evident on his face. He even releases a small laugh—a huff more than anything—as he asks, “Have you been holding back on me Patil?”

Padma swore if Tom were human her gaze would have torn him limb from limb by now.

Terror held her throat in a vice grip but she somehow found the courage to ask one final question, “Tom, what do you want from me?”

He leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “Everything you see fit to give me.” He was so close that she could feel her own breath hitting his face—she could see his minuscule reaction to the sensation, his eyes closing for half-second as though he was cataloging the memory for later.

He vanished before her throat manages to unclench from her gulp.

* * *

Padma needed a plan of action—a meticulous to-do list—to keep her mind from fraying at the seams. Madam Pomfrey had offered little to no reprieve until the “expert’s opinion” from St Mungo’s arrived. She was unsure whether to approach her Head of House simply because he was no Mind Healer. The person she wanted to talk to the most should have been the one to call her in immediately—Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

She wasn’t quite sure if she had to gall to call for an audience with the man either. If he had shown so little concern for her well-being as it was, she saw no real reason to believe he would actually help her. In fact, she had been rather astonished that none of the adults in her life were really doing anything about this despite her notifying Madam Pomfrey. It got to the point that she direly wanted to ask her parents for advice but how could she explain to them that some wraith— _boy_ —was following her around at all hours? Her parents, sadly, were always the type to jump to conclusions—much like Parvati if she thought about it.

_Parvati._

Padma had agonized over telling her twin of the recent happenings but what could she possibly do if even Madam Pomfrey didn’t know what was wrong? Perhaps empathize—Padma knew quite well how misery loved company considering how it was now following her around—but nothing constructive and definitely not a plan of action.

So Padma found herself quite alone in her dilemma and realized that she was more than likely the only one able to pull herself out of this mess. Because that was the only thing she could really call this—a mess of emotions and jumbled thoughts and fears.

It seemed as though the majority of this mess was because of a lack of information. And, as any good Ravenclaw was wont to do, Padma was resolved to find answers.

Through any means necessary.

* * *

One day after lessons were done, Padma very deliberately gathered her things and ventured up to her room knowing full well none of her housemates would be there. It was far too early in the day to be doing anything besides slacking off or studying or the like—no one would really be sleeping unless they felt ill.

And as usual, the wraith quietly followed. Padma took a breath, drawing from her inner reserves of courage though to be fair her nerves were all shot to hell. Her mind was starting to associate the wraith as a nonthreat because he never did anything except follow her around. In fact, it was starting to feel like she had acquired a very annoying and chatty pet if anything. She was starting to feel compelled to smile in his direction whenever she caught him in the corner of her eye. It was sickening how her own _mind_ was trying to normalize the situation—normalize his behavior, normalize his existence.

After lightly closing the door, Padma steadily walked to her bed stowing her bookbag in her trunk, and sat on it while patting the space beside her.

Tom—it—paused for a moment. Her behavior had certainly been strange today but he—it—had yet to comment on it, perhaps because it was a _nice_ strange. She hadn’t been overtly rude nor hostile at all _and_ had she flat out ignored him (it) as per usual. She had considered making the change gradual but seeing as this had been persisting for nearly a month now, it was starting to seem as though it was never going to go away.

Tom sat gingerly as though unnerved—Padma hadn’t expected the laugh which bubbled out of her—imagine a wraith having nerves or being unsettled by _her_ , an ordinary witch!

“I’ve decided something. We’re going to be friends,” Padma finally stated at leisure.

“Oh?” There was something in its expression that Padma couldn’t quite name. It didn’t frighten her so perhaps that was why her brain wasn’t entirely too focused on the task of deciphering it but she was still left feeling bereft.

“I’ve decided to simply embrace whatever this is.” The wraith remained surprisingly silent at her statement. “So, well, what do you like to do for fun?”

“For _fun_?” He echoed.

“You know—do you like quidditch? The first game of the season’s happening next week, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. The eternal rivalry.” It seemed as though she had just realized that his uniform was Slytherin, complete with the green tie. She was surprised by the look of distaste that formed on the wraith’s face but also very amused. “Alright so not quite a quidditch fan, it’s alright I don’t blame you there.”

The wraith seemed reluctant to enter the conversation, looking almost increasingly uncomfortable. He decided to drive her absolutely batty the past month and now when she extended an amiable gesture of peace, he’s hesitant!

Padma grit her teeth, forcing herself to stay calm and rational. She wasn’t sure why it was bothering her so much but she could feel the anger starting to bubble and boil just beneath the surface. She wasn’t normally as quick-tempered as Parvati but when she was angry it was difficult for her to focus on little else.

But what did she expect—a _normal_ conversation? This was a wraith, a spirit, most likely a ghost if anything. Something that had likely not been seen by or interacted with the living in decades—certainly not the best conversation partner out there, one would only need to look at Peeves for confirmation.

Padma exhaled, willing her anger to leave her as she flopped back onto her bed. The wraith continued to watch her, and Padma was quite honestly surprised he hadn’t vanished yet—as he was typically wont to do whenever she seemed to bore him (or whenever was most convenient for him).

“I suppose I enjoy wandering the castle.” The wraith spoke up in sotto voce.

Padma perked up, not expecting him to really contribute anything useful. “You mean like exploring?”

“I suppose I would have called it exploring a long time ago but now wandering seems a better fit.”

“I bet you know loads about the castle. Probably seen parts which haven’t been used in ages.”

“I could show you.” Padma started, not expecting the blatant invitation nor the way he moved closer to her on the bed. He was simply lying on his side just watching her breathe but she felt her wand hand twitch in response.

Padma nodded. “Alright. We could do it during my patrol tomorrow—it’s not like I catch very many people anyway.”

The wraith gave her a full grin, one she hadn’t seen in quite some time. It was predatory and disturbingly enthralling.

Their conversation naturally lapsed to silence and Padma felt her eyes become heavier and heavier until her vision blurred—the last thing she remembered seeing was a pair of red eyes.

* * *

It occurred to Padma that perhaps the reason why the wraith was excited was the chance of luring her alone somewhere deep in the castle where no one would ever find her.

But the thought had little substance—the wraith had had ample time to lure her alone somewhere where no one would hear her screams—so she dismissed it entirely.

* * *

The wraith left her mostly alone the next day. A fact that bothered her more than she had initially expected—to the point where she might have been actively looking for him worried.

Thankfully no one really seemed to notice anything was amiss—especially since Padma had taken to (not avoiding per se) but unconsciously evading Luna Lovegood since their encounter at dinner a few weeks ago.

It was when she caught herself looking a bit too long at the mirror in the loo that she decided she was being ridiculous. Especially when she contemplated doing something with her hair for _Merlin’s sake_.

It was just her friendly, neighborhood wraith taking her on an exploration of Hogwarts during a typically boring and tedious patrol as she finagled for more information to come up with a plan to get rid of him—it.

It most certainly was _not_ a bloody date.

* * *

[1] I imagine wizards across the world have very different cultural expectations of what magic should be used for and it’s likely something that has been harshly debated/even started conflicts. While Padma’s monologue can come off as xenophobic, she has her own opinions about the purpose of magic.

[2] Yes, I know realistically the Prefect Patrols likely wouldn’t occur past curfew but for the sake of the story—I do what I want.

[3] Ravenclaws are notoriously lazy. Work smarter not harder, after all.

[4] Umbitch does exist in this verse but she’s just in the background.

[5] Harry is of course referring to Ginny’s traumatic experience in the Chamber of Secrets.

[6] RIP Cedric

**Author's Note:**

> a big thanks to [susabei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/susabei/pseuds/susabei) for actually getting me to write again


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